Like this:

The little train station depot was located in the middle of nowhere – somewhere between Germany and Switzerland on the wild frontier separating the two countries.

A weathered wooden sign was nailed to the door of the train depot, proclaiming “InterCityExpress.” The whole depot was in poor repair.

There was no one in the ticket office. No lights. Outside, a man sat on a long wooden bench that was once red, but the sun and age had softened it to a pale pink patina.

The light from the lantern next to the man, sent shadows scurrying across the wooden platform, and out into the night. Every now and then, the man whose name was Robert, checked his wristwatch, looked around impatiently, and frowned.

He couldn’t remember how he ended up at this lonely little outpost. Or why he was here. Even more confusing, he felt an urgency to catch a train…but didn’t know when to expect it. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there like this.

He listened for a train whistle, but only heard wolves howling at the spring moon. The day came and went. Still, Robert waited. That night he heard a train whistle. He waited eagerly for it to come into view.

Air-brakes screeched, and the train slowed down to a complete stop. The smokestack belched plumes of smoke as the engine idled. A conductor came out of the first passenger car and waited for Robert to approach him. His gray hair was neatly trimmed, as was his handlebar mustache, and he was all business.

“Ticket sir!”

Robert frantically searched his pockets but couldn’t find a ticket. “I seem to have lost it, but I’ll gladly pay cash for my fare right now.”

“No ticket? Sorry, sir.”

Robert watched in shock as the conductor turned around and boarded the train. The train whistle blew twice, and it steamed into the growing fog that was surrounding the depot. He looked to his right, and left. Baffled. Now what?

“Can you hear me Robert?”

He tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy. He was having trouble breathing. His breath came in short rugged gasps. The pain in his chest intensified.

“It’s going to be…” the voice trailed off.

He was sitting on the bench again. Looking. Waiting. Listening. He stood up and walked out to the train track and looked up at the stars. They glittered like diamonds. A wolf’s mating call hung in the night…waiting for a response.

Was he having a nightmare? The longest and worst nightmare of his thirty-four years of existence? In his mind’s eye he saw images. A terrible car wreck. Bodies being pulled from two cars by first responders. Red lights flashing. Blood.

He wondered why he wasn’t hungry. He’d been waiting for days without food or water. Part of him knew that couldn’t continue. He’d die if he didn’t eat or drink…right? There had to be an explanation.

“Is he going to make it?”

Robert’s ears perked up. Was his train coming at last? He heard the faint faraway whistle with eagerness. Maybe it was his time. He sat back down on the bench and looked at his wristwatch. The cool night air caressed him as he tried to be patient.

“I’m sorry…his heart just gave up.” the doctor told Robert’s wife.

Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, Robert found his ticket and handed it to the conductor, who invited him aboard. The last train had finally arrived for Robert.

As It Stands, there’s a twilight existence between life and death, where train’s run on time and people wait for their fate.

Flickering souls, like giant fireflies, waiting impatiently. They hover around the loading platform. A train’s whistle breaks the silence…

“Step right up folks! Have your holo-tickets ready. No shoving or cutting into line now,” an old man with a conductor’s hat on, called out.

The train took off into the vast darkness, its steel wheels humming like celestial music. Inside, two souls were deep in conversation:

“That sure was close,” the first soul, whose name was Rosco, said with a sigh of relief. “If it wasn’t for those extra points I earned giving up my life for those kids, I think I would have gotten a one-way trip to hell.”

“Don’t be too confident now. We still face challenges before making it to Heaven,” the second soul, whose name was Harry, pointed out.

“You’re right, of course. We still have three trials to face before getting our wings,” Roscoe agreed.

“My first ticket is to a place called Agincourt, on October 25th, 1415, during the Hundred Years War,” Harry said.

“What’s your new name?” Roscoe politely asked.

“Peter Archer, I’m a long bowman for King Henry V.”

“My new name is Albert McColloch, and I’m a bystander at the OK Corral shootout in Tombstone, Arizona, on October 26, 1881,” Roscoe said, after closely scanning his holo-ticket stub.

“Looks like you’ll be getting off this train after me if the stops are chronological,” Harry observed.

“I hate to admit it,” Roscoe said, “but I was a politician in my old life.”

“That explains your close call for getting the tickets.”

“I know,” Roscoe confessed. “I’m sure grateful that I qualified for the Karma program and got these opportunities to show why I’ll make a good angel.”

“Next stop coming up!” the conductor’s voice suddenly rang out.

Harry stood up and stretched.

“Agincourt!” the conductor announced.

“Good luck to you Roscoe. I hope to see you in heaven some day,” Harry said before hurrying down the narrow aisle to the open door.

Roscoe watched him leave and the conductor close the door. He looked out into the darkness and prayed that he wouldn’t run for mayor of Tombstone.

As It Stands, souls, and what happens to them, are one of my favorite themes.